"Betty,

What the hell are you talking about? We weren't exactly popular before Freddy joined but we were doing what we love. That's what the important thing is. Don't ever forget that. Tom was fine moving to keyboard. You couldn't play keyboard. Drums are your thing. Your voice is amazing but you thought we didn't sound good enough. There's no point in regretting your decision now, especially since the aftermath was so rewarding. We got so popular! Tom left because he wanted to B. Stop being so dramatic and looking for something else you can blame yourself for. If Tom left for anyone, it was because of Freddy. Stop talking down on yourself, I hate it. I sent the key in a separate thing. Your parents destroyed your equipment. I'm so sorry. I had a feeling, so I went to check. I don't think it'd be a good idea for me to show up to their place so I'm just going to leave it alone. The job is a good idea and group therapy will be fine. Suck it up and do what you gotta do. Maybe they'll release you early for good behavior. Choose the activities carefully. Don't get dragged into something you're not interested in. And don't give me that bull about only being interested in music. Miss you. 16 months.

Love, Damon"

I roll my eyes and close the letter in my drawer. He's so full of shit. I'd get angry but I have other things to worry about. I need to pick my 3 activities. I was really sick with the flu so they gave me a bit of extra time. Of course, my band is at the back of my mind. I really wish Damon would stop counting, it's bothering me. There's still nothing about Freddy or Gunther. I know he's keeping it out on purpose. I just don't know if it's for me or if it's because my therapist doesn't want me to know anything about it. Hopefully these activities will start to take my mind off them and things will go by quicker. I doubt it. I knock on the office door of the activities coordinator and walk in without an invitation.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, Ms..."

"Betty Morris."

"Ah yes, Ms. Morris. Please sit."

He gestures to the chair and I sit down. I space out, taking in the details of the office as he introduces himself. I must seem rude but I really don't care what anyone's name is. The more detached the better. Why can't they just call me Betty? They want me to be relaxed and feel comfortable, right? They'd achieve that by...

"Ms. Morris?"

I glare at the man who interrupted my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"I was asking what activities you have chosen."

"Oh. I think physical fitness.."

"Focused on?"

"Like cardio. The gym setting kind of."

He nods his head.

"Alright. Next?"

I look at him blankly. I thought about it, I really did. I just can't see myself gardening or sitting down to read a book. That's not relaxing to me.

"Cooking?"

"I think that'd be a good fit for you. How about meditation?"

I laugh harder than necessary.

"Do I look like a hippie?"

"Do you want me to be honest?"

I close my mouth and glare at the man.

"Anything you used to enjoy in your past?"

I look away and mumble.

"I used to play chess when I was a kid."

"Perfect! The game club."

"They play chess?"

He smiles at me.

"A variety of strategic games, classic board games, approved computer, xbox,wii and play station games."

"So no GTA?"

He drops his smile. No sense of humor.

"A game that's based on murder, drugs, alcohol and prostitution really wouldn't be of use here. Thank you Ms. Morris. We should have your weekly schedule to you before lights out or tomorrow morning."

He ushers me up and to the door, closing it before I can say anything. I head to my room to write Damon before dinner. Instead, I'm stopped by a nurse.

"Betty, a Mr. Hale has called for you. It's all set up in visitation room... Are you okay?"

Suddenly my head starts spinning and my stomach drops. I manage to let out a sentence.

"I feel horrible."

She holds my shoulder to support my weight.

"Okay, let's go back to your room. I'll let your therapist and your friend know."

Once at my room, I slump into my bed as fatigue rushes my body. I'm dying. All my sins are finally catching up to me. Oh my god. I don't want to die here. Good lord. Someone knocks on my door and comes into the room. I can't even lift my head off the pillow.

"Ms. Morris? Hi, I'm the doctor on call today. How are you feeling?"

I groan into the pillow as he checks my blood pressure.

"I'm dying, aren't I? Because of everything I've done wrong, all the mistakes I made."

He undoes the Velcro on the blood pressure cuff and laughs.

"No need to be so dramatic Betty. You're simply suffering from PAWS."

"What is PAWS?"

The doctor grabs the chair from my desk and brings it next to my bed to sit.

"Post-Acute Withdrawal Syndrome. Did you experience withdrawal previously?"

"Yeah.. It was horrible."

"Well after the initial alcohol withdrawal symptoms have dissipated, some experience prolonged side effects. The length of time PAWS lasts depends on the severity of your past alcohol abuse. Some cases even last a year. You see, the brain has the incredible ability to heal but slowly."

"So what are the symptoms? Will the passing out and seizures come back?"

"Relax Betty. It's highly unlikely for those specific symptoms to return. Common PAWS symptoms include irritability, anxiety, low energy. trouble sleeping, dizziness and delayed reflexes."

"So I just get to suffer through basically a hangover, without the alcohol. Great."

The doctor chuckles.

"I can add anti-nausea pills and a NSAID to your medicine. You should also begin taking daily vitamins and have a cup of coffee a day."

"Isn't caffeine addictive?"

"Yes. However, in moderation, caffeine can help treat an alarming number of conditions and diseases. I'll check in tomorrow."

I mumble.

"Thanks."

"I'll put the request in once I reach my office. You'll have your first doses before bed."

He leaves and I close my eyes.

"Ms. Morris? Dinner?"

My stomach turns and I groan again.

"Can't do it. Just wanna rest."

"Okay dear. I'll be back in a bit with some medicine and juice."

A few hours later, one of the over night nurses brings me an apple juice and medicine. I force myself up to write Damon back. I'll probably be too busy this week to find time.

"To Damon,

No need to get angry at my pretty boy. I was just asking a question. Tone your aggression down some, okay? Figured something would happen. It's fine. I'm not getting out of here anytime soon. I probably would've just had you sell the kit anyway. Although I am surprised they didn't just burn everything. Easy for you to tell me to suck it up when you're not the person that has to do it. Didn't you refuse therapy when it was suggested to your parents? I chose physical fitness, cooking and the game club. Tough luck, they won't release me early. Hopefully time will go by faster now. Stop counting.

Betty."